Hetalia drabble collection
by Thefreakoutsideyourwindow
Summary: A collection of all my Hetalia drabbles. Content will vary from story to story, and rating is subjective. Disclaimer: I own nothing.
1. Jackpot

**Jackpot**

Dribbling down his chin a bit, the heady scent that was rum enveloped his mouth and nose, the burning liquor only going down his throat with some difficulty. Hearty cheers and clinks of mugs followed by the heavy slosh of liquid surrounded him in the dim candle light, a vicious grin plastered to his face as he admired their latest haul. He'd ordered the chef to bring out their freshest batch of food as they were going to be docking soon anyway (and he'd be damned if he and his men had to eat those meagre biscuits that sufficed for food on a night like this).

A tap on the shoulder prevented him from re-living the moments.

Turning swiftly on his heel, he noticed their navigator (and majority of the time cook), Yao, was fidgeting with a map and compass in his hand, looking anxious and generally not wanting to talk about whatever it was in front of the others. With a nod, the two walked outside onto the starboard, the cool night air breezing around them with only the slightest taste on salt to it. He then realised that Yao hadn't told them to quieten down (something he was annoyingly adamant about), not even once throughout the busy night, churning his stomach with worry.

"What is it, Yao?" He asked, a bit too hurriedly for his liking but demanding enough at least.

The dark haired man finally gave up on trying to make the outcome sound better than it was and with a sigh he said, "A large ship is coming into out path, captain. We should relocate soon. It bears the-"

"Another ship?" Arthur exclaimed, effectively cutting off the other man, "Well why didn't you say so earlier, this is fantastic news!"

Sprinting off to inform his men, Arthur hardly heard the warning protests from Yao as to just exactly _what_ kind of ship it was, instead gathering his cutlass among other weapons as the crew geared up and got out their grapple hooks in preparation of their next big catch, still high on the previous outcome of their last plundering. Resigned to his fate, Yao heaved a heavy sigh as he made his way to his quarters, unable to keep up with the fast paced and often ill thought out ideas. Shutting his door, the first clinks could be heard as metal scraped against metal from the grapple hooks and gave up contemplating why they did things the way they did.

Such was the life of a sky pirate.

* * *

><p>Shackled. He was...shackled.<p>

Struggling to push the horrendous realisation out of his mind, the melancholic clinking of shackles instead of mugs forced himself to come to terms with it, despite the fact that he had vowed to never end up in shackles again.

And now he was responsible for his shackled crew too.

Of bloody course it had to be a government patrol ship, of course it did. He should have known better, the words 'quit while you're ahead' ringing through his mind, but he never would've ended up where he is now if he followed those words. And currently that is shipless, crewless and shackled.

_Perfect._

The turning of a lock alerted Arthur and his crew of another presence entering the dingy room, the heavy pine door shuddering as the person behind it struggled somewhat to move it's weight. It was only when the figure stepped into the dull and split sunlight from the grid above did Arthur truly notice who he was. The name tag 'Jones' embroidered over gold stars and the bright blue eyes could only belong to one person and Arthur resigned himself to his fate as the 'speech' about justice and comeuppance was initiated.

Oh, this was going to be a long trip.


	2. Pick up your phone

**Pick up your phone**

She kept checking her phone and e-mail, wishing someone would make contact; the liquid white and blue light reflecting and running down her blank face. The only sounds present in the dull, square room were that of controlled, near silent breathing and the rhythmic symphony of clicks, scrolling and the buttons of the keyboard being frantically hammered.

_Come on, come on. Pick up your damned phone!_

The call was met with silence, having been the 27th that hour only continued to drive the girl into a more panicked frenzy, refusing to move from her flimsy desk despite her body's needs. Weary lines painted themselves down her face, brought upon her with the ever increasing press of stress. Wry, short blonde hair hung together in clumps, fearing isolation as they slowly withered from lack of care. Palettes of dark blue and purple hung below her hollowed beryl eyes, speaking hushed tales of her day to day struggle.

Sighing, the girl gave in to one of her body's needs, the cacophony of popping joints following her as she trudged her way to the bathroom. Flicking on the cheap, amber light, Amelia closed the bathroom door for what she could hope would be some way of enduring longer, hastily making her way back to her desk after finishing the task. She looked at the aged plastic phone on her desk and heaved a sigh, knowing this night would be the same as the others.

In her garden, enveloped by the night, the man re-dialled her phone number.


	3. Crisis

Of course it'd end up like this. Of course it bloody would. For every dream come true, wish upon a star fairy tale pulled out of someone's ass, there would always be a hitch somewhere, a 'whoops, sorry kiddo, you forgot your 5 cents!' and the magic would be gone in the blink of an eye and everything would be dull dull dull all over again.

Arthur wondered if this is what it felt like to truly grow up. He considered himself to be a mature adult by practically all means, aside from his firm belief in magickal creatures, but life still had a glimmer to it, a bit of shine around the edges, silver lining as they called it. Well, not so much now, he supposed.

Most people, _ordinary people_, went through a more natural sort of crisis. Finding their partner cheating on them, realising they'll never get to become a millionaire and all that jazz. Arthur would've swapped his predicament for one of those any day. He supposed that's why he was stood at the top of one of the many sky rise buildings in New York, the chilling, smoggy evening air brushing through his grimy blonde bangs, sweat occasionally soaking up surrounding hairs.

"Arthur."

The voice momentarily broke him out of his stupor, muscles twitching and shaking slightly as he drew his attention to the direction of the voice again, body tensing at the worried but commanding tone.

"Put the gun down."

Shaking his head slightly in what he refused to acknowledge as fear, his grip only tightened on the cool steel, sweat pouring into tiny cuts on his hands that created a small stinging sensation, keeping him alert. The man in front of him was conflicted, wanting to reach out and help him, stop him, flip this all around and bring it back to boring, peaceful reality that life for them was a mere hour ago, but the dangerous and feral glint in Arthur's absinthe eyes kept him wary.

"You lied."

The accusation stung but the man refused to back down, watching Arthur with sadness and fear, pretending he didn't hear Arthur's voice just crack. Dry lips were hastily licked as Arthur spoke once more, this time with more anger to convince him, "You _know_ I can't tolerate lies." The brass police badge clipped to his chest glinted menacingly in the fading light, a warning that he knew and had ignored, a warning that he thought would never be brought up.

"Arthur, I-"

"Shut up!" The roar interrupted his excuses as Arthur continued with what many would consider a madman's speech, but he knew all too well the reality of it. "You knew! You knew and yet you never thought-never even considered let alone thought..." He trailed off, refusing to wipe away the tears that had accumulated as he ranted, the unnatural glowing blue of the other's eyes still visible despite the blurriness. "Alfred, how could you not tell me you were a m-mu..." Unable to even say the simple yet devastating word, Arthur finally crumpled to his knees, sobbing yet still holding the gun.

Though still standing, Alfred was affected by the words spat at him, ignoring the tears trailing down his cheeks as he took steps forward slowly, voice wavering with sorrow yet still confident, "Arthur, you know I couldn't say. You'd have killed me right on the _spot_. But we can fix this, views are changing- people are changing! And I'm still Alfred, regardless of not being fully human."

Arthur's breathing had calmed somewhat now, his kneeling form no longer shaking but his head was still bowed. With a soothing smile, Alfred walked towards him. "C'mon, we can talk about the rest of this inside with some of your crummy tea, 'kay?" Closing the distance, Alfred opened his arms for a warm embrace-

And Arthur pulled the trigger.


End file.
